


yearning, burning

by tsunderestorm



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Masturbation, Sharing a Bed, Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:21:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26511328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunderestorm/pseuds/tsunderestorm
Summary: Sylvain tugs Felix back against him, puts big, warm hands on his skinny hips and Felix runs through every sword form he knows -twice- as a distraction.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62





	yearning, burning

**Author's Note:**

> I asked for prompts on my [twitter](twitter.com/tsunderestorm). The prompt for this was old reliable, "There's only one bed."
> 
> afab trans Felix; language includes clit, pussy, boobs - take a pass if that's not your thing.

The room doesn’t have enough air. In this tiny little cabin, there’s clearly some shortage of palatable air. They’re too high in the mountains, the air is too thin and it’s the middle of a raging snowstorm. _That’s_ why Felix can’t breathe, right? The more he tells himself that, it’ll make it true. Absolutely nothing to do with the fact that their clothes are soggy and cold from the snow and so they’re drying in front of the fireplace and they’re buck naked in a bed with worn-out Jersey cotton sheets and a scratchy wool blanket that isn’t even half as warm as Sylvain’s body against his own.

Sylvain spoons up against him as he drifts off to sleep, and Felix squeezes his eyes so tightly shut it _hurts_. Sylvain’s arms curl around him from behind, slotting their bodies together, and Felix listens to the crack of logs in the fireplace, the howl of the wind outside, anything but Sylvain’s steady breathing against the crook of his neck and the pounding of his own heart.

Sylvain tugs Felix back against him, puts big, warm hands on his skinny hips and Felix runs through every sword form he knows - _twice_ \- as a distraction.

“Do you have to be so close?” Felix grouses. 

Sylvain’s hand is now high on his belly, palm flat against him and fingers just shy of one pebbled nipple. It’s too easy to imagine him raising it higher, finding out how hard Felix’s nipples are. His tits are small, but they’d fit in Sylvain’s hands, dry, smooth palms against tender flesh.

“There’s only one bed,” Sylvain answers, smiling against Felix’s bare shoulder. “What am I supposed to do, Felix?”

Felix grumbles irritably, but he’s right. They sleep. Or at least, Sylvain does. Felix lies awake, conscious of every place their bodies touch, every inch of burning skin. 

Felix shifts so he’s more on his back, spreads his legs, gets a hand between them, drags his fingers against his pussy. Sylvain is such a heavy sleeper, always has been, and with all the sounds he’s not used to, smells he’s not used to he can’t fucking sleep and this will help. It’s out of _necessity_. That’s what he tells himself, at least, not that he wants to ride Sylvain’s face until he’s gushing over it, wants Sylvain to fuck his eyes crossed like he _knows_ he can.

His clit is so hard, so _fucking_ hard, had he ever been this hard? Has he ever been this turned on? All because of Sylvain, his muscular thighs against the back of Felix’s legs, his fucking hands, the stupid fucking closeness of him. Has he ever _come_ this hard, thighs a quivering mess and arching his hips off the bed as quietly, slowly, subtly as he can so Sylvain doesn’t wake up?

The morning sun peeks through the window from its perch in the clear, cold sky, and Sylvain says, “You know, we should share a bed more often, Felix.”


End file.
